Life in Blue and Bronze
by autumn midnights
Summary: Because, after all, there's more to Ravenclaws than just studying and books. A oneshot collection exploring my headcanon of the lives of Trio-era Ravenclaws; oneshots take place in the same universe, but do not need to be read in order to understand. Fourth: Morag&Su friendship, set during OotP.
1. What Happens After Detention Mike&Susan

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This applies to all oneshots in this collection, i.e., it's a universal disclaimer since I don't feel like putting one on each individual chapter. _

_Author's Note: All right, so this is my new collection, Ravenclaw-focused. Despite being a Slytherin myself, I adore the minor Ravenclaw characters, especially the ones in Harry's year. It's very likely that I won't be writing about Luna, or Cho; this is probably going to be focused on minor characters. Characters from other houses will also make appearances, although at least one Ravenclaw will be a major character in each oneshot. And, although I figure this is pretty obvious, I just wanted to clear one last thing up. '&' between two characters names (for instance, Morag&Su) implies that the fic is platonic; '/' denotes a romance between the two characters (for instance, Michael/Mandy). _

_Written for the Wand Wood Competition (Ash - write about a Hufflepuff) Gemstone Competition (Onyx - write about a Hufflepuff), the Greenhouses Competition (Rose - write about a Hufflepuff), the Hogwarts Classes Category Competition (Herbology - write about a Hufflepuff), the Colors Competition (Blue, positive - write about a Hufflepuff), the As Strong As We Are United Competition, and the HeadCanon Boot Camp Challenge (prompt: stutter)._

_Combining is fun._

* * *

What Happens After Detention

Michael&Susan

* * *

_April, 1998 _

"Michael? Can you hear me?" The voice speaking was soft and decidedly female, and for a moment, Michael didn't recognize who it belonged to. He slowly opened his eyes to see Susan Bones - red-haired Hufflepuff in his year - standing over him, Anthony by her side. He instantly wished that he hadn't woken up; his whole body ached, and he grimaced in pain, the events of hours before rushing back to him.

He and Morag had gone down to the dungeons in an attempt to rescue a first-year girl who had been chained up by the Carrows. Morag had managed to escape, taking the first year with her, but Michael had been caught by the Carrows, and he had been given the worst detention of his life. He had never experienced the Cruciatus Curse for so long before, and he hoped with all the strength in him he never would again.

"Where am I?" he asked, looking around the room. It was completely unfamiliar. He was laying in a bed, similar to the ones in the Hospital Wing, and there were a few other scattered beds throughout the room, as well as bookshelves and a few other assorted magical objects. Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan were against the opposite wall, muttering to each other. "Is this the Room?" he asked, a flash of realization coming to him.

Susan nodded. "We took you to the Room of Requirement - figured you wouldn't be able to head to classes for a little while, which would only get you more detention. Thought it would be best for you to live here instead." She shot a glance at Anthony. "Now that he's up," she said to him, "can you go and get your supply of potions?" Anthony hurried off, leaving the Room; Michael knew Anthony's potions had been left in the dormitory. Anthony had taken over the responsibility of healing the Ravenclaws who had gotten injuries from detention, just as Susan had for the Hufflepuffs, and Fay had for the Gryffindors. The Carrows had instituted a new rule that Madam Pomfrey couldn't heal detention-related injuries; as a result, the task of healing students had fallen on other students.

He knew that his injuries were serious - not just because of how much his body still hurt, but because Susan was there. Susan was definitely the most capable out of the three student Healers; Anthony and Fay deferred to her in the few instances of very serious cases. If it had been just a normal detention, Anthony would have been able to handle it - after all, giving him a painkilling potion wasn't that difficult. "What happened to me?" Michael asked, realizing how hoarse his voice sounded.

Susan perched on the end of the bed, sitting gingerly as to not cause Michael any more pain. "You - you really want to know?" Her stutter also gave away the extent of his injuries; Susan was generally very calm and composed around her patients. She coughed slightly, as if to cover up the slip in her composed facade. "Lengthy exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Multiple lacerations. Bruising. A minor concussion. A broken arm."

Michael's mouth formed an O. _No wonder this hurts like hell. _"Will you be able to fix everything?" he asked. His previous detentions had never been so severe - although he had never tried to rescue someone else from detention, which apparently counted as a major offense in the Carrows' book. He felt a stab of worry for himself; what if something went wrong in Susan's attempts to heal him? She was only seventeen - or eighteen, maybe, depending on when her birthday fell. She was no older than he was, and she held his life in his hands. He wasn't even close to her, either; he knew her from the D.A., but they had never been close friends.

"Yes," she said, sounding confident. Michael hoped her confidence was real. "As soon as Anthony gets back, I'll be able to give you some potions. I was able to heal your cuts while you were out, but I couldn't do much else - it's easier to give a conscious person potions than an unconscious one." Susan tucked a strand of red hair behind one ear, fussing with her messy bun. He couldn't help but notice that she was pretty. That was something Morag and Su would tease him about to no end - noticing girls while he was laying in a hospital bed. He could just hear them now. He shook those thoughts out of his head quickly, though - he was still happily dating Mandy Brocklehurst, and he was pretty sure that Susan had something going on with Ernie Macmillan.

_Speaking of Morag... _"Are Morag and the first year all right?" he asked, his mind focusing on Morag for an instant. He wouldn't totally put it past her to do something crazy in an attempt to help him; she had completely come out of her shell this year, becoming almost as wild and outspoken as Su.

"They're fine," Susan said. "The first year's being hidden in the Ravenclaw seventh-year girls' dormitory, since the Carrows would make her life hell if she went back to class. And Morag's fine, too - she knows you're safe, and she didn't get caught going back to your common room. The Carrows think you're the only person involved in letting the first year escape." She finally finished fixing her hair, and folded her hands on her lap. "How do you feel, Michael?"

"Like shit," he replied, wincing as he tried to adjust his position on the bed. Padma's disapproving face swam into the forefront of his mind; she didn't appreciate cursing, despite six years of living in the same bedroom as Morag and Su.

Susan raised one eyebrow. "Very eloquent, Corner." She couldn't keep a serious face for long, though; the corner of her mouth quirked up, and seconds later, she chuckled. "Don't worry, your potions will be here soon." She cast a glance at the door. "Hope Anthony's all right."

"I'll bet you five Galleons that one of the other seventh-year Ravenclaws started a conversation with him," Michael replied.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not betting with you. Besides, I don't even have five Galleons on me. Nor would I want to give it to you, if I did."

Michael adapted a wounded look. "I'm _hurt. _ That's not nice."

"If anything, you should be paying me," Susan retorted. "Since I'm healing you, and most Healers don't work for free."

"You're getting compensation," Michael said. "Your reward, payment, whatever - you get to spend time with me. That's something many girls at Hogwarts would kill for, you know."

"They can have you."

Michael put his hand over his heart with his good arm. "How you wound me."

"You know," Susan said, "you might want to stay on my good side." The slightest mischievous smile crossed her face. "Since, you know, I'm giving you potions, and it would be way too easy to slip something into one of them."

"What do you mean by 'something'?" Michael asked, wiggling his eyebrows. He was glad for the banter with Susan; it took his mind off the fact that his body was still throbbing with pain. He regretted not getting to know Susan sooner - this was amusing. And fun. "You know, I might not be opposed to you slipping a little Firewhiskey into one of my potions."

Anthony arrived just in time to hear that last sentence; his forehead wrinkled. "I don't think I want to know," he muttered, glancing between Michael and Susan. Susan's mischievous smile had disappeared, and her professional, serious look had found its way back onto her face.

"Thanks for the potions," Susan said to Anthony, opening the box and peering inside, taking a few of them out and examining them critically. Anthony turned away for a second, adjusting his robe, and Susan's gaze found Michael again. Her look held that same air of mischief as it did before, and she uncorked one of the potion bottles, pretending to pour something into it. Michael chuckled, and in that moment, he knew that this wasn't over. He would talk to Susan Bones again - he'd make sure of it.

The look in her eyes suggested that she was thinking the same thing.


	2. Coming Back Home Morag&Katrina

_Author's Note: Written for the HP Potions Competition (Draught of Peace - write about life after Voldemort's death), Greenhouses Competition (Palm - write about life post-war), Hogwarts Classes Category Competition (Divination - write something post-war), Colors Competition (Magenta, positive - write something post-war) As Strong As We Are United Competition (__Splash, _Flight, _Permission, _Consistent, _Fireplace), and the HeadCanon Boot Camp Challenge (prompt 46, 'home')._

___Morag MacDougal is a canon character, a Ravenclaw in the same year as Harry. Nothing else is known about her, and in my headcanon, Katrina is her sister - a Squib four years younger than Morag._

* * *

Coming Back Home

Morag&Katrina

* * *

_May, 1998_

"Are you sure I should go home?" Morag said again. She was sure that she had already asked Padma this about five times, but she felt the need to ask again. She and Padma were the only Ravenclaw girls from their year left; Su and Mandy had both died at the Battle of Hogwarts two days previously, and Lisa was in hiding somewhere for being a Muggle-born.

Padma sighed. "You don't need my permission, Morag. Besides, you should go - your sister must have heard about what happened; she'll be worried sick about you." She ran a brush through her dark hair. Padma looked older than her eighteen years; her eyes held a certain weariness that they hadn't before. At least before the Battle of Hogwarts, nobody had actually died there at school. Students had been hurt and tortured, and that was terrible, but nobody really feared for their lives.

"All right," Morag said slowly. She had spent the past couple days at Hogwarts, beginning the process of rebuilding the school. The worst of the damage had needed to be repaired instantly, for fear of someone getting hurt by falling through a hole in the floor or wall, and Morag, along with many other students, had assisted with that. It had allowed her to take her mind off of all the deaths that had been caused by the fighting; the work wasn't particularly interesting, but it was much better than going home and moping about in her room, letting herself be swallowed by grief.

If she hadn't had a sister, she wouldn't have even considered going home. Mr. and Mrs. MacDougal were the rational type. Morag knew her parents would make the assumption that no news equaled good news - that is, if nobody had sent them a letter saying that Morag died, then Morag didn't die. Of course, they would also make the assumption that Morag had been smart and stayed out of the Battle, an assumption that was completely and utterly false.

Katrina MacDougal would be worried, though. She would have seen the _Daily Prophet_'s articles about the Battle of Hogwarts, and she would have known that Morag would go back to fight. Although the sisters had never explicitly discussed what would happen if there was a fight, Katrina knew about Morag's participation in Dumbledore's Army that year. Katrina was only thirteen; she would panic. A lot.

"I'll see you around, Padma," Morag said. It was a feeble goodbye, she knew, but she couldn't think of what else to say. She didn't know when she would see Padma again, since Padma's parents were coming to Hogwarts to pick her and Parvati up. Morag knew there was a chance she and Padma wouldn't see each other for a while, but there was nothing she could do about it. The Battle - hell, the war in general - had done a lot worse than that, anyway.

Padma glanced up. "See you, Morag."

Morag left the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory with her trunk, flicking her wand at it so that she did not have to carry it down the stairs. It bobbed along beside her as she made her way to the common room. For a second she glanced at the fireplace - it would be so much quicker to Floo home from there than to walk all the way off Hogwarts grounds and Apparate - but she shook the thought from her head. She didn't even have Floo powder, for one, and the common room fireplaces didn't lend themselves well to Flooing.

The walk through Hogwarts was a quick one. Morag didn't want to linger; even though the bodies had long been removed from the corridors, she could still picture the night of the Battle in terrible clarity. The Hogwarts grounds held less memories, but still she hurried along, wanting to get out now that she was no longer working. She had to walk all the way off the grounds; the Anti-Apparition wards had been the first things to be restored when the cleanup had started, in order to help return the castle's security. It made perfect sense, but it was a pain.

When she had finally stepped off the grounds, she twisted on the spot and Apparated, remembering to grab the handle of her trunk at the last second. As always, there was an unpleasant squeezing sensation, but it didn't last long, and Morag stood in the back of the MacDougal property. The yard was medium-sized, with a small pond Morag and Katrina used to splash in when they were little, and a small copse of trees that had been perfect for hide-and-go-seek. Now, the yard just held memories of a time before Hogwarts, when everything was childish and innocent and simple.

Morag shook her head free of those thoughts and headed to the house. The door was locked, the house's only protection; the MacDougals lived in a relatively quiet Muggle area, and there was no need for magical protection, especially considering the respectability and neutrality of Mr. and Mrs. MacDougal. It only took a simple, nonverbal _Alohomora _to unlock the door, and then Morag stepped inside, barely managing to close the door and set her trunk down before she was thrown backwards by somebody jumping into her.

"Katrina," Morag said, prying her sister off her, "you're choking me."

Katrina had the decency to look embarrassed. Although they had been close as children, everything changed when Morag went to Hogwarts. Mr. and Mrs. MacDougal discovered soon after that Katrina was a Squib, and the divide between the sisters grew, mainly because of Katrina's jealousy over Morag's attendance at Hogwarts and magical ability. They had become close again, however, during the year the Carrows reigned Hogwarts. Katrina had learned what was going on at the school when Morag returned for Christmas break, and they had reignited their closeness. It still felt strange, though, to actually be friendly with Katrina - they hadn't done anything friendly for years before. "Sorry," she said. "But you should be sorry too! I mean, you didn't write - I thought you _died, _Morag!" She put her hands on her hips, glaring up at Morag with a fierceness Morag hadn't seen from her in a while.

"I'm sorry. I helped repair Hogwarts and stuff - it was damaged in the Final Battle." _So were a lot of people. _"And I had some - some things to deal with, too." It hadn't been easy, dealing with the deaths of several of her friends - not just the other Ravenclaws, but the D.A. members who had died as well. "I'm alive, though. And in one piece."

"You weren't hurt?"

"Nothing major." The Battle had given her a few more scars, but that was pretty much it. "I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess." She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down, Katrina next to her.

"So He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone, then? Really gone?" Katrina twisted her hands together, looking slightly nervous. Morag knew this year hadn't been easy on Katrina, either - Katrina had been worrying about Morag, as well as worrying about herself and her own status as a Squib, which would make her extremely vulnerable in any run-ins with Death Eaters. "He won't come back?"

"Definitely not. He's gone for good." The survivors of the Battle had all gotten an explanation of why Harry had been able to triumph over Voldemort, and the circumstances that had led him away from the school all that time. It was long and drawn-out, complicated enough that the remaining Ravenclaws had discussed it more than once in order to fully understand. It was a long tale of Horcruxes - which Morag hadn't even heard of before that time - and the Deathly Hallows, both branches of magic that were not fully understood by most people. Morag considered telling Katrina a version of the story, and Katrina's next question decided that.

"How do you know? Everyone thought he was gone for good, what, sixteen years ago?"

Morag ran through the story briefly, including only the important points: Voldemort hiding bits of his soul in various objects, which were then destroyed in order to make him mortal once more. By the end of it, Katrina's mouth had formed a perfect O, her expression one of stunned surprise.

"Seriously? He did that? I didn't even know that was _possible_!"

"Neither did I." Morag shrugged. "Neither did most people - Horcruxes are really Dark stuff. There's nothing on them in the Restricted Section or anything like that; no student could have known."

"So what about his followers, then?" Katrina asked. "Are they all going to Azkaban?"

"The ones who aren't dead, yeah." Morag's thoughts returned to the night of the Battle, the way Death Eaters had fallen under her wand; she had gone after the one who had killed Su, especially. That wasn't her proudest moment, she would admit. "They'll get trials, but it's pretty obvious they'll all get life sentences in prison."

"And those people who were running Hogwarts and torturing all the students? Snape and the - what were their names?"

"Alecto and Amycus Carrow." Morag could hear the undercurrent of viciousness in her words, a habit developed over the past several months at Hogwarts. "They'll both be going to Azkaban. Their trials will be huge." Michael had found out from his mother - a relatively high-ranking Ministry employee - that the Ministry wanted statements from all of the Hogwarts students that year. The underage ones would have to get permission from their parents, which meant many of them wouldn't end up at the trial, but there would still be an overwhelming number of Hogwarts students testifying, as well as the teachers.

"And Snape?"

"Dead." Morag took a deep breath. "He was actually on our side - Dumbledore's spy through and through. Nobody knew that until the end, though." She still couldn't sort out her feelings about that. On one hand, she was grateful to him - he had, obviously, played a major role in the war, and in the Dark's downfall, by relaying secret Death Eater information to Dumbledore himself. On the other hand, he had sat by and allowed the Carrows to take over Hogwarts and torture students. Morag had hated him since his murder of Dumbledore, and it was difficult to erase nearly a year of hatred.

"But he killed Dumbledore!" Katrina's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why would he -"

"It's a really, really long story," Morag said tiredly. "Let's just say Dumbledore was going to die anyway, and he wanted Snape to kill him."

"Whoa," Katrina said. "There was a lot of stuff going on that nobody knew about, huh?"

"Definitely. And all of us at Hogwarts had no idea what Harry Potter was doing, gone for so many months. A lot of people doubted whether he would come back or not." She recalled the bet Michael and Su had made in November - or was it December? Michael had said that there was no way Harry would return and do something at the end of the school year, like he had for the past six years; Su had said otherwise. She blinked back tears at the thought of Su - that was still way too painful. She didn't know if it would ever get easier to think about her lost friends. "But then he did. And we won."

"I'm so glad you're safe," Katrina said after a beat. "I would have been so...I would have..." She shook her head, unable to put into words what she was trying to say, but Morag understood the gist of it, and she stood up, pulling Katrina into a gentle embrace.

For a moment they just stood there. Morag couldn't help but look around, taking in the familiar sight of the MacDougal home. She had been reluctant to leave at first, but she was sure now that coming back home had been the right thing to do.


	3. Steady TerryPadma

_First of all, this is written for Amber (Cheeky Slytherin Lass), courtesy of the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013. I hope you like it! _

_This is also written for the Hogwarts Classes Category Competition (Charms - write about a Ravenclaw) and the Headcanon Boot Camp Challenge (Muggle Studies)._

* * *

Terry likes to hope that maybe, just maybe, this can last forever.

o0o0o

He can't be sure what draws him to Padma at first.

She's not like Su, all wild, open energy, the epitome of a tomboy. She's not like Morag, with fiery passion and a burning temper lurking underneath that controlled facade. She's not like Lisa, whose puppy-like innocence makes everyone adore her. She's not like Mandy, who's still quiet around them after over five years.

She's different. Padma Patil is mature and honorable, the conscience of the group, the mother figure who makes sure they don't corrupt Lisa too much or encourage Su and Kevin's wild sides. She's gorgeous, like her twin sister, but she doesn't seem to care; her hair is pulled back every day, and her Hogwarts uniform always conforms exactly to the regulations.

Padma is the one that catches Terry's eye at the end of fifth year, and when the beginning of sixth year rolls around, he's spent a whole summer thinking about her, a whole summer musing on what they could be.

He just hopes that there's a chance, no matter how faint.

o0o0o

It's a normal year at Hogwarts. He hasn't had one of those since his first year, what with the Chamber of Secrets and Sirius Black's escape and the Triwizard Tournament and the Umbridge fiasco, and it's a wonderful feeling to return to what passes for normal at Hogwarts. It's funny, he thinks, his definition of 'normal' - after all, he's at a school to practice magic.

Terry lets himself get caught up in essays and classes and his friends, and he tries to ignore the fact that his eyes always go toward Padma when she walks by. After all, there's no way Padma could be interested in _him _- gangly, awkward Terry, too tall and skinny, not as confidently arrogant as Michael or as gracefully soft-spoken as Anthony.

He can't deny, though, that it feels good to worry about something so mundane. He knows that the war's coming - he knows that You-Know-Who is back - but he puts that to the back of his mind, because the war isn't right there in front of him, and for a little while, he wants to forget.

o0o0o

"Terry," she says one day, startling him from the book he's reading. The two of them are the only sixth years in the common room, sitting next to one another in fluffy armchairs that Terry never wants to leave. He looks over at her, a smaller figure curled up in her chair, a thick Muggle Studies book propped open in front of her. "There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon, you know."

His heart beats faster as he nods. "Yeah, there is." For the Ravenclaws in his year - all of them very close with one another, all of them content to call the other nine their best friends, the only group so large in the entire school - Hogsmeade weekends are generally group things. Occasionally someone splits from the group, if they happen to be dating somebody, but for the most part they stick together. "Why?"

Padma takes a deep breath. "Well, you and I are the only ones left of our group," she says. "Everybody else is either going with someone or not going at all. So it'll be just you and me, unless you have other plans."

He shakes his head. He didn't have other plans, and besides, there's absolutely no way he would miss out on the opportunity to go to Hogsmeade with Padma, even if it isn't technically considered a date. "No plans," he says.

She offers up a rare, real smile. "See you there," she says, and buries her face in her book once again.

o0o0o

They're sitting across from one another at a table in the Three Broomsticks, one of those tables in the back where it's quiet enough to hear each other speak. Both of them have Butterbeers; Terry's is almost three-quarters done, and Padma is sipping hers at a more respectable pace. He's just glad it's not strong at all, but then he reconsiders - maybe it is, because there's no way he would have enough confidence to speak his next words if he were fully sober. "So, er...is this a date?"

For a moment, Padma just stares at him, and he opens his mouth to take back what he said, to pass it off as a stupid joke or something along that line. Before he gets the chance to say something, she talks. "Do you want it to be?"

It's not a 'yes', but it isn't a 'no', either, and Terry takes a chance. "Er, kind of."

She reaches across the table and takes his hand. Her hand is small in his, cool against his warm skin, and he can't help the grin that makes its way across his face.

o0o0o

It isn't passionate.

Terry doesn't know if either one of them even have the capability to be passionate. He feels that he's too awkward, not charming enough, not _desirable _enough for the sort of passionate romance that fourth-year girls whisper about when they think nobody's around. He knows for a fact that Padma is sensible and mature; he can't picture her being that wild about anything, much less him.

They're not doomed to burn out. Their flame doesn't leap and soar unnaturally high. It's there, but it burns slowly, steadily, calmly. It fits them both well. Terry would never be able to keep up with somebody fervent and wild, and Padma would never even try.

He's perfectly content to just sit there with her, talking quietly, her head against his shoulder. He knows nothing more is going to happen - because she's _Padma _and she'd never do something scandalous, and he's _Terry _and he would barely know what to do if she tried.

He thinks he loves her for it anyway.

o0o0o

He kisses her on Valentine's Day.

It's something he can't resist. They've kissed before, but never more than one kiss at a time, because they aren't brave enough to find a private place, and they aren't brave enough to actually make out in front of others. Valentine's Day comes, and they bundle themselves up and walk around the grounds. "Hogwarts is beautiful in the winter," Padma says. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Terry says, and then channels his inner Michael Corner. "Like you."

He takes the opportunity to kiss her, and she embraces him and kisses back. He thinks he might just be in heaven, because he's kissing Padma Patil - _truly _kissing her, not just pecking her lips with his own. It's just as wonderful as he thought it would be. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, and he can't stand up straight because he's too tall, but it doesn't matter at that moment - nothing does. Despite the cold, despite the layers of clothes they both have on, he thinks he's in paradise.

o0o0o

"You and Padma are still going out, huh?" Michael says. "How's that going?"

Michael's lounging on his bed, his head propped up on his hand, sprawled out like a model. Going on appearance, he should be the one to be with Padma - the prettiest girl with the handsomest boy - and Terry feels a small amount of pride that Padma chose him over Michael. "Good," Terry says. "It's going well."

Michael nods. "Nice, mate. What's gonna happen over the summer? You two sticking it out, or -"

"I don't know," Terry says. "I haven't thought - we never brought that up."

"Ah, well," Michael says. "If I were you, I would have moved on anyway. I've had my eye on a few other people."

"You always have your eye on a few other people," Terry points out, and Michael doesn't deny it. Terry can't fully understand the way that Michael doesn't enjoy staying with one person. Doesn't he realize the beauty of having somebody else actually care about him? Doesn't he realize that relationships are about more than the physical?

Knowing Michael, probably not.

o0o0o

"You'll write?" Terry says. The Hogwarts Express stands high beside them, a burst of scarlet on the otherwise-dull platform. He vaguely wonders why the train is painted Gryffindor red; the fair thing to do would have been to paint it either a neutral, non-House color, or paint it with all four of the House colors.

Padma's voice shakes him out of his irrelevant thoughts. "Of course," she says, and hugs him. She feels comforting and warm, and for a few seconds, Terry can forget about everything - Dumbledore's death, the fact that the war is going to get even more real now - and just focus on her. "I'll see you in September, all right? I -" She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, Terry thinks she's just going to leave, but she finishes. "Love you, Terry."

She squeezes him, and starts to walk away. "Love you, Padma," he replies. For a moment, he doesn't think she heard, but then she turns around, a few feet from where he's standing, and there's a smile on her face. She lifts up a hand, and disappears into the crowd.

He watches until he can't see her anymore, until her petite figure is swallowed up by those bigger than her, and he wonders what the next year will bring.

o0o0o

Terry always wishes that the peace of sixth year could have lasted forever.


	4. Revenge Morag&Su

_Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Keeper: write about friendship), the HP Potions Competition (Gregory's Unctuous Unction: Write about best friends) and the Colors Competition (Orange, positive: write about friendship). _

* * *

Morag was the only fifth-year Ravenclaw in the common room.

It wasn't a normal occurrence, but this was an exception. Padma, Michael, Anthony, and Terry had gone off to one of their meetings; Morag still didn't know exactly what was up with that, simply that they were somehow joining forces with Harry Potter to learn DADA. Morag always wondered if learning DADA was all that went on at those meetings; it sounded far too innocent, considering Potter's reputation. Of course, Morag still wasn't sure exactly what she thought about him - she went back and forth between thinking he was a lunatic and thinking he wasn't - but still. A secret DADA group just didn't sound exactly like the sort of thing someone as notorious as Harry Potter would involve himself with.

Stephen, Kevin, and Lisa had all decided to study in the library instead of the common room, because of the amount of noise in the common room, and Mandy had retired to the dormitory to do Merlin-knew-what. Su had detention with Umbridge, which left Morag all alone in the common room. She had her Defense textbook - easily the most boring Defense book ever written - open in front of her, but it was difficult to study.

The thought of Su all alone in detention with Umbridge was not a happy thought. It was clear that Umbridge - underneath the facade of the pink-obsessed cat lover - was not a nice woman at all, and Su was Morag's best friend. She knew that Umbridge couldn't do anything too horrific - even the Ministry couldn't turn a blind eye to everything - but despite that, vile mental images still swirled in Morag's mind, until finally, she slammed the book shut and turned toward the door to wait for Su.

She didn't have to wait long. Su came in, her face paler than normal, her Ravenclaw tie tied around her hand. Morag leapt up, rushing over to Su. "What the hell?" she breathed, looking down at Su's hand. The tie was stained with dark liquid, and Morag could see what looked like dried blood on the exposed fingers. "Su, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm going to freaking murder somebody by the name of Dolores Jane Umbitch" was Su's response.

"Do you need Madam Pomfrey?" Morag asked.

"Umbitch is gonna need Madam Pomfrey," Su grumbled. Morag felt a slight surge of relief; Su was still Su, at least, so she hadn't been hurt too severely. The two girls went up to the dormitory, and Morag, with fumbling hands, carefully undid the knot in Su's tie, gently removing it from her hand.

The second she saw Su's hand, Morag slammed her fist against the bedpost, a harsh noise escaping her mouth. There, scarred in Su's hand, were the words _I will not disrespect professors. "_Damn it!" Morag half-shouted, partially out of pain - now her own hand hurt - and partially out of anger. Umbridge had absolutely no right to do whatever it was she had did to mark Su like that. That was illegal - that was torture. She could feel herself trembling with rage; nobody treated her best friend like that. Nobody.

"It's fading," Su said. "It was worse before. I reckon it'll be gone by tomorrow morning, if not sooner."

Morag whirled back to face Su. "Are you all right?"

"I guess," Su said. There was a strange look in her eyes, and Morag guessed it had something to do with her own behavior. It was always Su who was the wild one, throwing fits and hitting things she wasn't supposed to, swearing loudly for seemingly no reason. For Morag to do something like that was out of character for her, but this was an exception. This was so much more than anything that Morag had ever experienced before.

"I'm reporting this," Morag said. "Dumbledore will be glad to hear about this. Flitwick, too -"

"No," Su said. "You honestly think that'd do anything? She runs the school, Morag. She effectively runs this place. Even if we do go public with this, she's just going to deny it - especially when this fades - or she'd just make some 'educational decree' about how she was able to punish students however the hell she wanted."

"Su, she tortured you! You can't just - you can't lie down and take this shit."

The corner of Su's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Oh, don't you worry, Morag. I won't."

* * *

Morag wasn't sure exactly how long Su had been gone. She knew that Su had left roughly around midnight, but she wasn't sure now exactly what time it was, and she was too tired to bother to check. The pessimistic part of her argued that Su had gotten caught; the professors and prefect patrols were, no doubt, searching for troublemakers as they usually did, and Morag didn't know whether Su would be able to evade them.

The optimistic part of Morag - and the part that hungered for revenge against Umbridge - argued that vandalizing a classroom took time, and that Su was sure to be very thorough with doing so. For a little while, the optimistic and pessimistic parts of her argued back and forth; she couldn't be sure, since she didn't even know whether Su had been gone for twenty minutes or forty-five; her sense of time passing was greatly diminished when she was tired and it was the middle of the night.

Finally - after what seemed like an hour, but probably wasn't - the door to the girls' dormitory creaked open, and Su stepped inside. The moonlight from the window and the light from her wand both illuminated her; she was flushed, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Morag?" Su whispered. "You awake?"

"Yeah." Morag propped herself up. "How'd it go?"

A devilish grin crossed over Su's features. "Oh, I wish you'd have come. I gotta say, I did a pretty fine job with the classroom. Pity we don't have DADA first; there's some really good artwork on the board that I'd love for you to see."

Morag smirked. "Who does have Defense first?"

"Third years," Su said. "Innocent little third years are going to be asking their big sisters and brothers what a few new words and phrases mean, I think."

"Unless they're like you. In which case they already know by that age."

"Ah, shut it. Anyway, the desk is pretty burned up, too -"

"You set her _desk _on _fire_?"

"And the chair is covered in slime. All the student desks and chairs are overturned, too. Looks like a storm struck the place."

"No," Morag said, "looks like _you _struck the place."


End file.
